A night not to remember
by Geraldine
Summary: Tonight, Sam and Josh hit the town and the lowest point of their lives. They're so screwed... A JAG TWW crossover.


Title : A night not to remember  
  
Author : Géraldine (on an idea from Marie)  
  
Email : lazy.gege@ibelgique.com  
  
Category : Humor, crossover JAG - TWW  
  
Characters : Sam, Josh, Harm, Mac, and some CJ and Toby on the side  
  
Rating : G  
  
Summary : Tonight, Sam and Josh hit the town (and the lowest point of their lives). They're so screwed .  
  
Disclaimer : They belong to Aaron Sorkin, John Wells Productions, NBC, Warner Brothers, and I hope I haven't forgotten anyone. So obviously, they don't belong to me. I'm not making money for this story, I just have too much free time on my hands. So I'm begging : don't sue.  
  
Spoilers : none  
  
Acknowledgements : Mucho thanks to Emily, my beta reader.  
  
A night not to remember  
  
Thursday - CJ's office - 8 A.M.  
  
It was all Josh's fault, Sam thought as he sat in front of CJ's desk, trying not to squirm under her gaze.  
  
She was furious.  
  
The press secretary took her glasses off and rubbed her eyes, suppressing a grimace. Sam's fear rose a notch. She was in pain.  
  
Furious, and in pain - so, probably dangerous, Sam thought, trying not to panic.  
  
Josh was looking at CJ pitifully, trying to gain a few points by looking miserable. Sam briefly considered doing the same thing. Maybe CJ's maternal instincts would kick in and he would survive if he acted like he was on his deathbed already? He decided against it, though. He was going to take the high road. He was going to be noble in the face of adversity, to demonstrate his inner strength. He was going to take it like a man.  
  
Josh put a hand to his head, moaning audibly.  
  
"Don't even try that," CJ told him, obviously not in the mood to sympathize with anyone. "It's your own fault that you have a headache, so stuff it."  
  
Sam suppressed a smile - taking the high road had been a good idea, he thought. Josh straightened up in his chair. For a minute, Sam feared his friend would tease CJ about her own hangover. Thankfully, even Josh wasn't that unconscious. He opened his mouth, closed it, and stared at his shoes.  
  
Sam began to breathe again, silently, so CJ wouldn't hear him. Maybe she'd even forget he was there? Maybe if he wished it strongly enough, he would be able to disappear, vanish into thin air, become an incorporeal being, turn to pure energy?  
  
CJ was glaring at him, and he mentally sighed in defeat. It wasn't going to happen. No God, no Higher Being, would help him this time.  
  
It was all Josh's fault anyway, Sam thought, looking at his friend resentfully.  
  
*****  
  
Wednesday - Harm's place - 11.30 P.M.  
  
Sam wasn't paying any attention to Harm, who wanted to know why exactly everyone had ended up crashing in his apartment.  
  
He was too busy praying to Whoever was Up There to pay attention to the conversation.  
  
"Please, oh please, if there was a reporter in the bar, please, make him forget everything," he prayed. "Just. please."  
  
"Why is everyone here?" Harm persisted.  
  
His colleague shrugged, as if to say, "These things happen."  
  
Harm turned to Sam, who growled, "Don't look at me. I was just going to go home and sleep. That's all I was planning to do. Sleep." Harm stared at him, surprised, and Sam added, "Then, * he * came."  
  
*****  
  
The White House - 5 hours earlier  
  
"Come on."  
  
"No, Josh."  
  
Sam just wanted to go home, collapse on his bed, curl up into as tight a ball as he could manage, and cry himself to sleep. Was it that much to ask?  
  
"Come on."  
  
"No."  
  
Josh had other plans, though. His friend had decided that they both needed to get drunk, as soon as possible.  
  
"Come on!"  
  
And so, they were stuck in this argument. They had been at it for what seemed like hours.  
  
"No."  
  
And there was no end in sight.  
  
"Come on."  
  
"No."  
  
"Come on."  
  
Damn, his friend was annoying, Sam thought. And persistent. And. tempting.  
  
After all, they had both spent the last few weeks working hard, very hard, to get a bill passed through Congress.  
  
They had won, this morning.  
  
Josh had been insufferable ever since, or so Donna claimed.  
  
Sam had been depressed ever since, or so Bonnie and Ginger claimed.  
  
Josh was swimming in post-victory bliss, whereas Sam found himself. bored. After days of research, negotiations, behind-the-scenes blackmail and bullying, there was nothing left to do. The good guys had won, Congress had caved in, happy ending.  
  
And now Sam had to admit that it was the quest that mattered to him. It was the fighting, the maneuvers, the pressure and the sleepless nights of strategizing that were fun. Not the victory.  
  
Victory was boring.  
  
Victory was depressing.  
  
Nobody needed you when you had won.  
  
That was the reason he wanted to be left alone, so he could cry over the futility of the job, of life, of fate, even.  
  
Maybe Josh was right, maybe he did need to get drunk after all.  
  
"Come on," Josh said, his tone defeated. Clearly, he thought that Sam wasn't going to go with him.  
  
"Okay," Sam shrugged. "Why not?"  
  
And so it all began.  
  
*****  
  
At the bar - Shortly after that  
  
Josh and Sam met the two JAG officers at the bar where they usually went when they wanted to get plastered.  
  
Sarah McKenzie and Harmon Rabb junior. Two legends.  
  
They already knew each other - they had met at several official dinners the White House had organized and they had had a few dealings on PR matters along the years. The two officers were well known in Washington - strong headed, they seemed to be trouble magnets - and to be able to antagonize more politicians than even Josh.  
  
Besides, Sam and Harm loved sailing. They had met at the marina where they kept their respective boats once or twice, they had even shared a beer once, and they liked to talk about law together.  
  
So, when they entered the bar and discovered that there was only one table left, they decided to share the space and have a drink together.  
  
Sam and Harm began arguing an obscure point of law and Josh began trying hard to impress Sarah MacKenzie. Before they knew it, they had been joined by Toby and CJ, who had finally managed to escape the President, Donna, who had finally managed to escape her date, and Admiral Chegwidden, who told them that he had had a hard time escaping Congresswoman Bobby Latham.  
  
They talked until the bar closed, their voices increasingly loud as the night progressed.  
  
Then they found themselves on the street; the admiral, Toby and CJ went home (or rather, fled the scene, Sam thought morosely) and everyone else went to Harm's.  
  
*****  
  
Harm's place - 11.33 P.M.  
  
"Seriously," Harm said, "why MY place?"  
  
"It was closer to the bar," Sam supplied helpfully.  
  
"So?"  
  
Sam thought. "I don't know," he admitted. "I thought I had it, but now it. eludes me."  
  
Harm sighed. "I'd better make coffee," he decided. If all these people were going to invade his place, he might as well be a gracious host.  
  
He didn't even have the time to get up.  
  
Josh, who had been staring fixedly at the officer's guitar for the last fifteen minutes, declared dreamily, "You know what?"  
  
"We don't want to know!" Sam and Donna said in chorus.  
  
Josh went on, undeterred. "I could have been, I * should * have been a rock star."  
  
Harm tried not to laugh too hard at Donna's face - a mixture of shock, horror, and disgust. Then, one look from Mac made him turn serious again. He knew what his friend was thinking about.  
  
He was never going to live that one down.  
  
Ever.  
  
It had all begun with a bet she had made with him, around 10 P.M.  
  
*****  
  
Back at the bar - Around 10 P.M.  
  
"I bet you won't dare to get up and sing a song," Mac said.  
  
Harm, like the idiot he was, shrugged and rose to his feet, full of self- confidence - a confidence mostly due to alcohol, he had to admit it. "And what do you bet?" he asked.  
  
"I'll take the next three stupid cases that land on your desk."  
  
"Five."  
  
"Four, and I pick up the song."  
  
"Deal."  
  
Then, he scanned the bar, looking for a karaoke machine. Not finding one. Resigned, he turned to the others and asked, "This isn't a karaoke bar, is it?"  
  
Sam shook his head, sympathetic, and Harm hissed, "You couldn't have said something?"  
  
Okay, so he didn't have a right to blame the guy, especially since they barely knew each other, but the beautiful self-confidence he had felt a few minutes earlier had gone away, far away, and been replaced by a slight. apprehension.  
  
"You didn't ask," Sam pointed out.  
  
He couldn't deny it.  
  
He finally found an old juke box in a corner, and Mac went with him to pick up the song.  
  
*****  
  
Harm's place - 11.35 P.M.  
  
Sam was staring at Harm.  
  
He looked like he was still thinking about it.  
  
That * thing * was going to follow them all for a long time, he knew that.  
  
Thinking back to what had happened, he shivered.  
  
*****  
  
Back at the bar - 10.10 P.M.  
  
When the Colonel came back, having left Harm near the juke box, she looked so self satisfied that Sam thanked heaven not to be on her hit list.  
  
At least, he hoped he wasn't on it.  
  
Anyway, when the first notes of the song went up and Harm shot a furious glance at his colleague, Sam had a hard time not laughing.  
  
'In the Navy.'  
  
She was going to make him sing 'In the Navy.'  
  
Chegwidden was laughing overtly, CJ and Toby looked vaguely amused, and Josh was howling - although his friend would probably say that he was discreetly laughing, but that was another matter.  
  
In his defense, Harm didn't hesitate. He began to sing, accepting the consequences of his bet like a man. Sam, who was trying to come up with an adequate way to describe it, finally decided that he would go as far as to say that Harm had demonstrated an extraordinary nobility of spirit.  
  
Yes, that was the word - or expression, or whatever.  
  
Sam wasn't sure he would have been that strong. In fact, watching the mighty Captain standing, tall and proud, alone to face his destiny, Sam reached the conclusion that he would probably have fled the bar instead of singing. In front of people. In front of mocking colleagues. In front of smiling strangers.  
  
The other customers, obviously not used to this kind of live performance, had stopped drinking and were staring at Harm as he sang, "They want you ! They want you ! They want you as a new recruit !"  
  
He was a pretty good singer, Sam thought. Pavarotti didn't need to get worried, sure, but he held the note, unlike Josh when he tried to -  
  
Josh.  
  
At that moment Sam realized that he had forgotten to watch his friend.  
  
As had Donna.  
  
He looked for, and found, Josh. Who was marching to the juke box. A man on a mission.  
  
The song stopped, and everyone clapped. Harm, seeming happily surprised by that reaction, bowed to his audience. And then Josh walked up to him and whispered something.  
  
"Donna," Sam muttered, desperate.  
  
"Oh no," she whispered back.  
  
"What?" Chegwidden asked.  
  
Sam turned to him. "There * has * to be something we can do."  
  
"About what?"  
  
"Josh. Sing," Sam summarized, trying to think.  
  
The first notes of a new song went up.  
  
Sam looked at Donna, who was looking at him. CJ was already laughing, Toby was smiling widely - no help there.  
  
"Aw, Aw baby, Yeah, ooh Yeak, huh, listen to this. Spy on me baby use satellite," Josh began to sing, and Sam admitted defeat.  
  
Perhaps it would be quick.  
  
"Sex bomb, sex bomb, I'm a sex bomb," Josh shouted, and Sam thought that it would never be quick enough.  
  
He was more right than he could have imagined, since Josh didn't stop after that one song. Harm and him seemed to enjoy their success, and decided to "revisit old standards".  
  
Donna decided to enjoy the show while it lasted, and called her answering machine a few times to record the best moments. After a warmly acclaimed 'Sex Bomb', there was 'Sexy Baby', 'You Can Leave Your Hat On' (to Sam's eternal gratitude, Harm and Josh didn't try to do a strip tease), 'Bohemian Rapsody' and 'My Heart Will Go On' (Donna enjoyed that one so much that she called Leo, after recording a few verses on her answering machine.)  
  
"No reason he can't enjoy. this," she explained.  
  
In fact, everyone else had decided to enjoy the show, and Sam allowed himself to relax. Until Josh announced that they were going to stop, but that first, they wanted to "sing a song with all their friends."  
  
"I'm gonna kill him," Toby growled, a disturbing smile on his face.  
  
It took some pushing, and pulling, and bullying, but they all found themselves on the stage. And they sung, oh yes.  
  
'We are the champions.'  
  
At the end of the song, they were holding each others by the shoulders, rocking back and forth, and Josh had tears in his eyes.  
  
Most of the other customers cheered loudly, and went back to their drinks.  
  
"If there was a reporter in the room tonight," CJ said, without saying what kind of horrible punishment she would inflict on them, letting their imaginations work.  
  
Sam had always had an overactive imagination. It was helpful sometimes. During the long, long, long speeches the President made on a rare stamp or a butterfly species he had just discovered, for example.  
  
And then sometimes, it allowed him to imagine the worst horrors - what it would be like to fall on his ass again in front of the Joint Chiefs, which had happened once, but it didn't really count, because he had had an inner ear infection that was messing with his sense of balance, and he would repeat it until everyone admitted that he had attenuating circumstances on that one. Or what Toby would say if he knew that he had stolen the bell with which Toby used to call him. Or what CJ would do if a reporter had taken a shot of the senior staff shouting, er, singing, 'We are the champions.'  
  
Of course, CJ had been the one dragging Sam to the 'stage', but Sam wasn't naïve enough to think that detail would do much for his defense if a picture made it to the headlines.  
  
He shivered, and sighed.  
  
He was still depressed.  
  
He grabbed the beer bottle in front of him and took a long gulp.  
  
If he had to die, he might as well do it in style, he thought.  
  
Not that it would ever go that far.  
  
He hoped.  
  
*****  
  
Harm's place - 11.40 P.M.  
  
Sam came back to the present in time to hear Donna explain, "I'm not saying that people can't write what they want. I'm just saying that some of them go too far. Seriously, have you ever read a hurt/comfort fic? It's. it's awful what they do to these characters. Thank god they're fictional."  
  
"What are you talking about?" Harm asked.  
  
"Oh, something I read while I was surfing," Donna shrugged. "Fans of a TV shows, that kind of thing, who invent stories with their favorite characters in them."  
  
"Josh has a fan club," Sam said to the two JAG officers. Then he bit his tongue. Damn, why had he brought that up?  
  
It would lead to places where he didn't want to go, it would be annoying, and maybe (surely) embarrassing - for him.  
  
"Really?" the colonel asked, with a sweet smile. She had accepted Josh's lame attempts at impressing her in good spirits, but she seemed more than ready to tease him to death in payback. "And what do the members do?"  
  
"Actually, I don't know," Josh admitted. "I think they have a website though. Maybe I should go visit it once."  
  
Sam and Donna shouted "NO!"  
  
"But - "  
  
"Josh," Donna began, with the soft smile she often used when she wanted to really scare him, "you will not go on this website. Because if you do, you'll say something stupid. And you know what happens when you say something stupid? CJ has problems, and she screams at you, and then you whine at me, and it goes on for days."  
  
"Do you have fans too?" Harm asked Sam.  
  
"Yeah," he said, praying for an earthquake, or maybe a small typhoon, to cause a diversion before the conversation took the turn it always did when his fans were brought up.  
  
"He has less fans than I do," Josh said proudly, ignoring Donna's orders.  
  
"They're more discreet," Sam said with a shrug. He knew his protestations were futile, but he couldn't help it. He had to defend them.  
  
His friend had always seemed to consider that only his fans deserved to be admired, because they were louder. Sam, on the other hand, thought sincerely that his own fans deserved some credit, some acknowledgement for their liking him. They seemed nice, from what little he had read on the internet, even if the way they obsessed about his hair made him slightly... squirmy. He often wondered why people seemed so interested in his hair. But that wasn't the point. The point was that his fans deserved just as much consideration as Josh's did.  
  
However, his friend didn't agree. In fact, each time the subject was broached, he produced the same argument. He was about to do it again, Sam could see it.  
  
He resigned himself. He couldn't stop Josh from saying, "Yeah, right. I'm sure the women of your family are the only members."  
  
"Yeah, well, I'm sure that they're nice, cultivated, intelligent and - " Sam tried again, knowing it was hopeless.  
  
"The wonderful women who love me, on the other hand. " Josh went on, superbly ignoring him.  
  
Sam leaned back in chair. Josh had begun talking about his favorite topic: himself. There would be no stopping him for a few hours, he knew.  
  
When he fell asleep, Josh was still talking about the wonderful women who "wanted him so bad", Harm and Mac were staring at him, seemingly torn between fright and amusement, and Donna was trying to shut him up.  
  
The last thing he heard before drifting off was Harm muttering, "They run the country?"  
  
*****  
  
Thursday - CJ's office - 8.02 A.M.  
  
Leo entered the room.  
  
"So?" he asked.  
  
CJ handed him a newspaper. Sam caught a glimpse of the headline. 'They are the champions.'  
  
There was a picture below, and he didn't need to see it to know what it was.  
  
Leo read the first few lines, and closed the door, slowly.  
  
"It was Josh's idea," Sam said, a few seconds before he heard the soft click of the door latch closing. "It was all Josh's fault."  
  
END 


End file.
